In a Treetop
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: He'd been twelve once, give or take forty years. But what if the transporter took fifty… This story follows the episode "Rascals."
1. Chapter 1

**In a Treetop**

**Author's Note:** This story was first published in 1996 in the fanzine _Eridani_ 27.

**Disclaimer:** The crew of the _Enterprise_ doesn't belong to me.

For a full ten seconds, no one moved, blinked an eye, took a breath, said a word. Then, a baby cried.

In an instant, Beverly Crusher was on the transporter pad, Miles O'Brien right behind her. Together, they knelt on either side of the crumpled maroon and black uniform and looked down into the folds of the material. There, literally swallowed by the waves of fabric, lay an infant, his little, oval-shaped face beginning to turn red as his crying intensified.

Crusher cast a glance over at O'Brien, their eyes meeting for a moment, and then she directed her attention back to the child. Quickly and carefully, she extricated his arms and legs from the uniform, his small, naked body trembling with each piercing sob, tiny fists waving in the air. She ran her tricorder over him, studied the results, looked at O'Brien again and nodded. "It's him. Approximately eight months. Good physical condition." The cries grew louder. "Good set of lungs," she added with a hesitant smile.

Leaning over, she wrapped the uniform top around the baby like a blanket, then picked him up and cradled him against her shoulder. "I'll take him down to Sickbay and run a few more tests on him." She stood up and shifted her gaze back to O'Brien. "I think you'd better run some tests of your own."

The transporter chief blinked and mentally threw off the shocked astonishment he was experiencing. With a meaningful glance toward Keiko, he responded. "I'll get right on to it. We'll get it figured out."

Crusher stepped down from the transporter pad, cuddling the baby closer, the soft top of his head brushing her chin. The loud sobs had trailed off into hushed whimpers, but she could still feel his wet, warm tears against her neck. "Please hurry, Miles," she insisted as she left the room.

~vVv~

"Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, one nose." Crusher's voice rose and fell in a tuneless sing song, and she tickled the baby's stomach. "One tummy." He chuckled. She stroked his face. "One chin." His smile widened.

"Beverly?"

She jumped, looking up from the bio-bed where the infant lay. The counselor and first officer stood just inside the Sickbay door. "Deanna. Will." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "You caught me." She grinned and glanced back down at the little body. "Baby-talk. Guilty as charged."

Troi and Riker stepped closer to the bio-bed, their own gazes shifting toward the diapered baby. Hazel-green eyes stared up at them, and he gurgled. A smile lit Troi's face. "It's really him, isn't it?" She reached out and touched one tiny hand; delicate fingers closed around her thumb. "Oh, he's got quite a grasp."

Crusher nodded. "Little One's strong and healthy." She brushed her hand over the baby's head, bald except for a thin, soft, light brown covering of fuzz. "And definitely Jean-Luc Picard."

Riker stared disbelievingly at the infant. "He's so... little."

Crusher sighed. Leave it up to a baby to render their usually loquacious first officer near speechless. "He's a baby, Will. They're supposed to be little."

"But I... I didn't think he'd be this..." His mind searched for another adjective. "Small."

Crusher felt slightly offended. "He's no smaller than any other baby who's almost nine months old."

Riker noticed the doctor's defensive tone. He shrugged. "Forgive me, Beverly. It's just that... the last time I saw him he was almost thirteen. It's going to take me a while to adjust."

A puzzled smile returned to Crusher's face. "Join the club." Leaving the baby with Troi, she gestured Riker over to a medical monitor on the wall. "I've taken a new tissue sample, and there are more veroxic sequences missing. I'm not sure why. Our plan should have worked."

Riker glared at the enlarged images of the captain's ribo-veroxic nucleic structure. "But it didn't work."

"I'm aware of that, Will," Crusher replied dryly, glancing back over her shoulder at Troi and the baby. "All too aware. And this time, there is more of a difference. Not only has his physical appearance been altered, but his psychological make-up as well. From what I can gather, there's a physiological point at which mental regression takes place."

Riker mulled her words over in his mind. "So, although at the age of twelve he had all the memories and mental capabilities of the adult Jean-Luc Picard, he's too young to have them now?"

"I think so," Crusher agreed. "Aside from some babbling, he doesn't have the ability to talk yet. But, as I said earlier, if we do nothing at all, he will probably grow up to be Jean-Luc Picard. So, at some point, all his knowledge, his memories, would more than likely return to him."

Riker's eyes widened at the prospect of having to wait another fifty years to get their captain back. "But we can't do nothing at all," he argued.

Crusher drew in a deep breath. "Of course, we're not." They returned to the bio-bed, and she gently placed her hand on the baby's forehead. "I've got half my staff working on this problem, and I'll continue to work on it myself, in between taking care of him." Her attention shifted toward the child.

'You could get someone else to take care of..." Riker's eyes caught Troi's gaze and the almost imperceptible shake of her head, and he allowed his suggestion to go unfinished. He cleared his throat instead. "I'll meet with Miles and Geordi and Data. See what they can come up with. You'll keep me informed of any changes?"

Crusher glanced over at him distractedly. "I will."

Riker nodded in Troi's direction, then turned and left Sickbay.

The counselor looked back at the baby and studied his little face. 'You know, he already has the captain's cleft chin," she said, noting the minute indentation.

Crusher laughed softly. "Don't be silly, Deanna. Babies don't have clefts. They have dimples."

Jean-Luc gurgled again, seemingly in agreement. Crusher wiped the drool away from the comers of his mouth with her fingertips.

Troi shook her head. "What do we do with him?" she wondered aloud.

"Well, I know it's been a while since Wesley was this age," Crusher answered matter-of-factly, "but I don't think baby care has changed much in the last twenty years. I plan on keeping him clean and dry, clothed and fed until we can return him to... his previous self."

Troi sighed. "There's no telling how long it will take."

"I know. In the meanwhile, I think I'm going to take Little One back to my cabin. I'm having ship's stores send up a crib. Something about keeping him here is just... sort of cold and impersonal."

Troi stared at her carefully. "Beverly... don't get too attached. Remember, this is the captain. He won't be little forever."

Crusher glanced over at her. "Don't be ridiculous; I know that." She quickly returned her gaze to the baby.

"Then why aren't you calling him by his name?" she asked pointedly.

One eyebrow arched challengingly. "What do you mean?"

Troi smiled, trying to diffuse some of the tension of the moment. 'You've called him Little One twice since I've been here." She rolled her eyes. "You're beginning to sound like my mother."

Crusher tenderly ran her hands over the baby's legs, and he kicked at her. "I... I just can't call him Jean-Luc. It's him, but..." She looked up at the counselor. "Deanna, Jean-Luc Picard has looked the same to me ever since I've known him. Maybe a little more hair at times, but... Except for the last few days, he's always... been the same. Now, if we're not able to find a way to return him to... who he was before..." She shook her head. "And we've got fifty-three years of possibilities..." She sighed. "I can't explain my reasoning, I just think Little One sort of... fits him for right now."

Troi nodded and laid her hand on Crusher's shoulder. "I think I understand." She shifted her gaze back to the baby. "And I also think Little One needs something other than a diaper to wear."

Crusher snapped her fingers and pointed at the counselor. "I've got that covered. Watch him for a second." She stepped away from the bio-bed and disappeared into her office; she returned in a few seconds carrying what looked like a piece of clothing in her hands. "I had the replicator make this." She spread the small garment out on the bio-bed next to the baby.

Troi took one look at it and started to laugh. "Oh, Beverly, if he ever finds out."

Crusher smirked. "Of course, he'll find out," she said, taking one of Jean-Luc's feet and gently pushing it into the leg of the little one-piece stretch suit. "I have to make a video log of all this."

Troi continued to laugh as Crusher pulled the maroon and black stretch suit into place over the tiny arms and legs, and then fastened it at the collar with four gold snaps.

~vVv~

Troi and Riker walked slowly along the corridor toward Crusher's cabin, each lost deep in thought.

Riker was finding it difficult to accept the fact that his commanding officer was only eight months old. And yet, at the same time, he recognized a certain sense of irony inherent in the situation. Jean-Luc Picard, who always claimed that he didn't know how to relate to children, was now one himself. Of course, Riker had had the same thought two days ago when faced with an adolescent Picard. Only now, it seemed worse. The captain was an infant in every sense of the word: mentally, emotionally, physically. "Why not... keep him in Sickbay?" Riker questioned, thinking irrationally that by taking him away from the ship's medical facility it would prolong his present condition.

Troi rolled her eyes at the first officer. "Will, he's just a baby. He needs to be somewhere where he can feel at home. After all, Sickbay's so... cold and impersonal," she found herself repeating Crusher's words.

Riker cast a sideways glance at her. "He's not just a baby, Deanna. He's the captain. We can't let ourselves forget that," he added stiffly.

Troi grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him to a stop in front of Crusher's door. She smiled up at him, sensing his discomfort. 'You're right," she agreed. "We can't forget that. But, we also can't forget that captains were babies once, too."

"Come in," Crusher called at the sound of the door chime.

The door slid open, and Riker and Troi stepped into the doctor's cabin. "Beverly?" Troi looked around the empty living room.

"Right here." Crusher came to the bedroom door.

They glanced over at her. "Where is..." Troi began, but stopped when a small figure appeared on the floor next to the doctor.

Crusher shrugged at their surprised expressions. "He crawls," she said simply.

Despite his attempt to control it, a broad smile spread across Riker's face as he watched the baby creep further into the room. "Who picked out his clothes?" he asked, amusement tingeing his voice.

"I did," Crusher raised her hand, returned his smile. "I thought it was appropriate."

"He's fast," Troi commented, following Jean-Luc over to the sitting area where a small blanket, scattered with toys, had been spread on the floor.

"He's learned where the good stuff is," Crusher agreed, sitting down next to Troi on the sofa.

Riker sank into a chair across from them, never taking his eyes off the baby on the blanket. "What's that he's got in his hand?"

Crusher laughed. "It's a chess piece. And it won't be in his hand for long. He's teething."

Riker's brow creased in concern. "Is it safe for him to chew on it?"

Crusher gaped back at him. "No, Will, it's not. He'll probably swallow it, and choke on it, but, hey..." She clapped her hands in front of her, then her voice sobered. "Of course, it's safe. It's too large for him to swallow."

At the sound of the hands clapping, Jean-Luc looked up from the knight in his fist and smiled in Crusher's direction.

Troi noticed. "I think he likes you, Beverly," she teased.

Crusher shook her head. "I think he knows who can give him this..." She reached over and picked up something from the table beside the sofa.

Riker stared incredulously. "A bottle?"

Crusher leaned down and extended the milk-filled bottle to Jean-Luc. He dropped the knight, wrapped his little hands around the bottle, and pushed the nipple into his mouth, smiling even as he started to suck hungrily.

The doctor relaxed back into the sofa cushions. "Will, he has to eat something," she explained, addressing the expression on Riker's face.

Confusion clouded his eyes even more. "But..." He sighed, waved a hand in the air. "Never mind."

Troi grinned over at him. "Takes some getting used to, doesn't it?"

Riker looked around, peering through the open door into the bedroom, his eyes falling upon the crib in the far comer. "I'm not sure I want to get used to it."

Seeing where he was looking, Crusher started to speak.

Riker stopped her. "I know... He has to have a place to sleep."

During their conversation, Jean-Luc pulled the bottle from his mouth and dropped it on the blanket. He rolled over on his side, then onto his stomach and scooted toward Riker. He stopped at the man's boots and put a tiny hand on his leg, the other on his knee, pulling himself up to a standing position.

Crusher smiled. "He, uh...he pulls up, too."

Riker leveled his gaze at her. "Can he walk?"

"No, Will," she responded, "he's a baby."

_As if that explains it all, _Riker thought, staring at the baby leaning against his leg. "Why don't you pick him up?" Troi suggested.

Riker glanced at the counselor uncertainly, but carefully placed his hands under the baby's arms and lifted him onto his knee. The little green eyes looked at his face.

"I think he likes your beard," Crusher proposed.

At that moment, Jean-Luc put out a hand and grabbed at Riker's chin.

"Ow!" Riker exclaimed. "That hurts." Tenderly, he removed the baby's hand from his beard. "Don't do that... sir." He looked helplessly over at Troi. "This is... weird. It was one thing having him hug me and call me Dad, but... to be..."

"Bouncing him on your knee?" Troi offered.

Riker nodded. "It is a little strange." He gazed at the baby on his lap. "Hey, look at that, he's already got a cleft in his chin."

"It's a dimple!" Troi and Crusher responded together.

"All right. Whatever you say." He shook his head. "A lot strange."

Jean-Luc twisted his little face up, his lip jutting out, and he hollered. Riker jumped. "What do I do?" he asked as the baby began to cry.

Crusher got up and leaned over, picking Jean-Luc up off Riker's knee. "Give him to me." She retrieved the bottle from the blanket, and then settled back down on the sofa, nestling Jean-Luc into the crook of her arm. She stuck the bottle in his mouth, and he immediately quieted. "He's just hungry."

Riker shifted in his chair, searching for something to say. "Beverly... Geordi, Data and Miles are working on... this problem. And, uh, I think they're going to figure something out, sooner or later, but if..."

Crusher looked up from the baby in her arms. "But if they don't?" she finished Riker's question. She'd been expecting it, even though they'd skated around it the last time.

He sighed. "If they don't?"

Crusher glanced over at Troi, looking for her reaction, then answered slowly. "Well, legally, he has family in France. His brother and sister-in-law have a son of their own. Or I..." Her voice trailed off.

Troi studied her. "Beverly, that's a big responsibility... under normal circumstances. And, well, these circumstances are far from normal."

"I know that. But, I raised Wesley on my own, and..." She looked back down at Jean-Luc, sucking contentedly on his bottle. "Why don't we just not worry about this until the time comes?" This time, she chose to skate.

Troi exchanged glances with Riker. They both silently chose the skating option as well. "Agreed. And in the meantime, if you need a babysitter... Will's available."

Riker laughed and threw up his hands. "No, no. I don't do diapers."

Crusher removed the bottle from Jean-Luc's mouth, deftly turned him over onto her shoulder and started to pat his back expertly. "Deanna, I don't think I'll need Will's help with babysitting," she smiled. And Jean-Luc burped loudly in agreement.

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

Troi offered to prepare dinner for all of them while Crusher gave the baby a bath.

"Want to help?" the doctor asked Riker over her shoulder as she walked into the bedroom.

The first officer blinked but followed her. "Who me?"

"Yes, you." She stopped on the other side of the room, next to the vanity, turned and handed the baby to Riker.

He took him and held him dangling in front of him.

"Hold him a little more securely," Crusher advised as she activated the sink. The water-filled basin extended out from the dressing cabinet. She pushed up the sleeve of her uniform and stuck her elbow in the water.

Having drawn the baby closer to his chest and wrapped his arms tighter around him, Riker stood there watching her. "What are you doing?"

"Old fashioned way of testing a baby's bath water. It should be a little warmer than skin temperature." She took Jean-Luc back and laid him on a changing pad atop the dresser. In a few seconds, she had him undressed and lowered into the sink. Immediately, he began to slap at the water, laughing as it splashed back up at him.

"He likes that," Riker observed.

Crusher dampened a bath cloth with one hand, holding onto Jean-Luc with the other. "Most babies love bath time. Wesley always did. He'd have played for hours if I'd let him." She rubbed some soap against the cloth and then ran it over Jean-Luc's soft skin. "This little one's no different, even if he is destined to grow up to be the captain of the _Enterprise."_

Riker frowned. "Hard to believe." He looked back at the baby and smiled again as Jean-Luc slapped harder at the water. "He is... commanding, though, isn't he?"

"Oh, most definitely," Crusher agreed, wiping water from her eyes.

"I'll be right back." Riker left the room.

Crusher looked at Jean-Luc. "Now, where do you think he's going?" she asked.

"Ah...bah," the baby answered.

She laughed and continued to bathe him. "I think so, too."

A few minutes later, Riker returned and dropped something into the sink. "Thought he needed a bath toy."

Crusher reached down and picked up the toy, stared at it. "Will, any other kid would just have a little rubber ducky, not a... plastic model of the _Enterprise." _She suppressed a laugh.

"Well," Riker took the model out of her hand and waved it in front of the baby's face. "This little one's not... any other kid."

~vVv~

Ten minutes later, Jean-Luc was clean, re-diapered, and dressed in a warm, blue blanket sleeper, complete with a little Starfleet emblem above his heart.

"Nice touch, Beverly," Troi commented, looking down into the crib.

"It was Will's idea," Crusher replied as she went into the next room.

Troi grinned over at the first officer. "You're enjoying this," she accused him playfully.

He stood on the other side of the crib, a teddy bear in his hands. "I am not," he defended himself staunchly. "This is a very serious situation." He held the stuffed animal above the baby. "Look at Mister Bear, Little One." He'd already adopted Crusher's name for Jean-Luc.

Troi giggled. "Oh, so serious."

Crusher came back into the room. "Will, stop getting him worked up; I'm trying to get him to sleep. Then maybe we can have our dinner." She held out her hand. "I thought this might help soothe him." In her palm was a small pacifier.

Riker looked back down into the crib and shook his head. "Don't think you're going to need that."

Crusher came closer and followed his gaze. Jean-Luc lay on his back, his legs kicking in the air. The fingers of one hand were rubbing slowly over his lips, and then he slipped his thumb into his mouth. Crusher smiled. "So, that lip rubbing habit of his started a long time ago."

Troi nodded. "So it seems. I'm just glad he gave up the thumb sucking habit. That definitely could have proved detrimental to his career as a Starfleet officer."

"Well, if it'll help him sleep tonight, I'm all for it," Crusher whispered, watching as Jean-Luc's eyes fell closed. She placed the pacifier in the crib beside him just in case he wanted it later, then she went over to the wall and manually lowered the lights. Troi and Riker followed her out of the room. "Sleep tight, Little One," she murmured, and then halfway closed the bedroom door.

The three of them moved over to the table and sat down with a collective sigh. They stared at each other for several long moments, unsure of what to say.

Finally, Riker ventured an observation. "He's a cute little guy."

"He is," Troi agreed. "Very sweet. And he seems happy."

"Can you sense what he's feeling?" Crusher asked, knowing that Troi's empathy could extend to children as well as adults.

Troi shrugged. "A little. Babies' emotions aren't as specific as older children's or adults'. Their feelings tend to be more general, usually along the lines of hungry or tired, happy, sad, frustrated, content."

"And this little one?" Crusher glanced over at the bedroom door.

"Like I said, he seems happy. I haven't sensed any undue frustration in him, surprising considering all he's been through in the past few days."

Crusher nodded and picked up a sandwich from a platter in the middle of the table, but instead of taking a bite, she just held it.

Riker, on the other hand, had begun eating with gusto. He noticed Troi staring at him, and he grinned sheepishly. "Babysitting makes me hungry."

Troi shook her head. "Everything makes you hungry."

Riker started to respond, but Crusher spoke up. "Do you know him?"

Troi turned her attention back to the doctor. "What?"

Crusher set her sandwich down on her plate and folded her hands on the table in front of her. She leaned toward Troi. "Is there anything about him, emotionally, that reminds you of Jean-Luc?"

Troi thought for a moment, trying to piece together what she'd sensed from the baby so far. "No, not really," she admitted.

Crusher frowned, her face seeming to fall disappointedly.

"But, Beverly," she quickly continued, seeing her friend's reaction, "since most people's basic personality isn't fully formed until they're five years old, he still has several years to go. If he were older, and I still couldn't sense anything of the captain in him, then I might be concerned. But, at this age..."

"I understand." Crusher picked her sandwich back up and took a bite.

They all ate in silence for a few minutes, Riker starting on his second sandwich, despite the look Troi gave him.

"I keep thinking of Jean-Luc's mother," Crusher said suddenly. "She would have been there when he was originally this age. I wonder if he thinks she's supposed to be here and knows that she's not."

"I don't know," Troi said, chewing thoughtfully on her own sandwich.

"Maybe he thinks you're his mother, Beverly," Riker said in between bites.

Crusher laughed nervously, her head shaking back and forth. "No, no, I don't think so," she responded, looking over to Troi for confirmation.

The counselor shrugged again. "He might."

"Surely, he doesn't-" Crusher's sentence was cut short by the sound of faint cries from the bedroom.

Reflexively, they all got up and went into the shadowed room. The baby had pulled up on the railing and was standing unsteadily in his crib, tears trailing down his cheeks.

"Little One," Crusher whispered, stepping over to him.

At the sound of her voice, Jean-Luc extended one hand and gave her a wide grin. "Mah...mah," he babbled.

Crusher froze in mid-stride, her arms reaching to pick him up.

In the silence that followed, he said it again. "Mah...mah."

"Oh, no," Crusher breathed. She felt a strong arm encircle her shoulders.

"Congratulations... Mom," Riker said, trying not to laugh. "It's a boy!"

~vVv~

"Beverly, he was just babbling. I don't think he was really saying... mama," Troi tried to explain, watching Crusher pace back and forth in the living area.

"We don't know that." She glanced at the door leading to the corridor. Riker had left only moments before, conveniently claiming he needed to check on the bridge. "Will seems to think-"

"Will was just joking," Troi persisted. "You know how he is."

Crusher stopped pacing and looked down at the baby in her arms; she held his bottle to his mouth, and he was quiet and content. "This is not a joking matter."

"No, it's not," Troi agreed. "But deep down, Will believes that everything is going to be all right. So, he... finds room for some good-natured teasing."

Crusher stared back at her, hope filling her eyes. "Do you believe everything is going to be all right?"

"Yes, I do," Troi answered softly.

"And what do I believe, deep down?" At this moment in time, she honestly couldn't identify her own feelings. It was just so hard to remain calm, and detached, and level-headed when you were holding one of your best friends of twenty years cradled in your arms.

"You believe everything is going to be all right, too," Troi answered serenely. "You'll figure out this RVN sequencing problem, and in a few days... Little One won't be quite so little anymore."

Crusher considered her words, envying her assuredness. Then she sighed. "But, Deanna, he called me Mama."

Troi smiled at her reassuringly. "Even if he does think you're his mother, I don't think it makes any difference. In a day or two, he'll be all grown up, and like most adults, he probably won't remember being this age. Even if it is the second time around. Besides, isn't it sort of like... a patient getting a crush on his doctor?"

Crusher shifted the baby in her arms. "Seems like Will's not the only one who's found room for some good-natured teasing."

Troi stood up and went over to Crusher. "Beverly," she said as she brushed her fingers over Jean-Luc's cheek, "believe me, I don't think he's going to stay this size for long. Enjoy him while you can."

~vVv~

Troi was gone and Jean-Luc was sleeping, lying quietly in his crib, chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. Crusher stood and watched him for a long time, remembering how she'd felt when Wesley was a baby. All those feelings that got mixed up, one upon the other: fear, exhilaration, tenderness, love. Why was it that something so small could bring out such large emotions? It was a question she'd pondered with Wesley, and found that she was still pondering it now. Perhaps there was no answer. Perhaps, if there were, then the joy and mystery that surrounded each new born life would simply evaporate.

But half the joy and mystery was watching to see what kind of person would emerge from each tiny infant. What would they look like? What would their personality be? What talents would be uniquely theirs? And here, in Jean-Luc's case, all those questions had been answered once already. Was it possible for this time to be different? If he remained an infant, and grew up again, would he really turn out to be the same person he'd been? It seemed impossible. After all, the variables had changed. He had no parents now. And, chances were, he wouldn't grow up on a vineyard in the middle of France. That is, if he remained with her. And there was no guarantee that he would be allowed to. And, even if he were, the realization of how their relationship would change was almost too much to comprehend. They'd been contemporaries, friends, perhaps something more. But now... twenty years from now.

The baby sighed in his sleep, his little thumb finding his mouth once more. And Crusher found herself blinking back tears, realizing that, if he had to grow up again, he might turn out to be the same kind, talented man he had been, but he wouldn't be exactly the same. Nor would their relationship. The thoughts and memories of the other Picard might return to him, but added to those would be new memories and experiences. She had to accept, despite Troi's assurances, that he might not be her little one for just a day or two. He might be little for years, and then grow into adulthood as she grew into old age.

With a sigh of her own, she kissed her fingers, then softly touched his forehead. "Sleep well, Little... Jean-Luc."

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

Crusher woke the next morning to the sound of the baby babbling in his crib. She got out of bed, pulled on her robe, and went over to him. Looking down, she saw that he was seemingly carrying on an animated discussion with his teddy bear.

When he saw her, he grinned broadly, two lower teeth shining white, like tiny pearls. "Mah...mah," he gurgled.

Crusher sighed. "Beverly," she corrected, picking him up in her arms. Perhaps the maternal relationship was one she could try to avoid.

He just looked at her, one small palm patting her cheek.

She laughed, and softly smoothed her hand over his head. "You have no idea what I'm saying, do you?"

He pulled at a lock of her hair. "Mah...mah," he laughed in response.

~vVv~

"Come in," Crusher called, turning away from the food dispenser. The door opened, and Troi stepped inside. "Good morning."

"You're just in time," Crusher smiled, setting a tray on the table and sitting down next to the high chair which held Jean-Luc. "Would you like to join us for breakfast?"

Troi came over and sat opposite the doctor. She looked at the bowl Crusher had picked up and watched as she spooned something into the baby's mouth. "What are we having?" she asked tentatively.

"Creamed rice cereal, made with Aunt Adele's warm milk," Crusher answered, scooping a drip off Jean-Luc's chin, and spooning another bite into his open mouth.

"Umm," Troi hummed. "Sounds... delicious. But I already ate." She shrugged. "Silly me, if only I'd known, I wouldn't have had that omelet in Ten Forward. But I think Will's stopping by in a while. You know Will... he'll eat anything."

Crusher shook her head at the baby. "Well, Deanna just doesn't know what she's missing, does she, Jean-Luc?" she crooned.

Troi noticed the use of Picard's name. "Jean-Luc?" she questioned.

Crusher nodded. "Yes. I thought I'd better get used to the idea."

"Beverly, I honestly believe everything's going to be all right." She sensed her friend's doubt. "And, you know, Data, Geordi, and Miles could use whatever help you could give them."

Crusher's eyes widened. "My staff is-"

"I know your staff is working on a solution, but... I think you need a break. It's hard to imagine a positive outcome to this problem when the problem itself is sitting right in front of you."

Jean-Luc playfully sputtered half his cereal out of his mouth and then chuckled.

"Especially," Troi continued, "when that problem is so cute and demanding of your undivided attention."

Crusher wiped the baby's chin and cheeks with a comer of his bib, then lifted another spoonful of rice to his lips. "Deanna, I appreciate the offer, but-"

Troi reached out and took the spoon from her. "Beverly... I can take care of things here. Now get dressed and go down to Sickbay."

She hesitated for a moment, then got up from the table. "Okay." She looked down at Jean-Luc. "But you'll call if..."

Troi moved over next to the baby. "I'll call if he needs you," she assured, beginning to feed him.

Crusher took a deep breath, mentally trying to relinquish her responsibility for the child. "Thanks," she finally said and went into her bedroom.

A few minutes later, she returned, dressed in uniform and lab jacket. Troi had finished feeding Jean-Luc and had lifted him out of the high chair. They were standing next to the viewport and Troi was singing softly. "Twinkle, twinkle little star."

Crusher laughed. "That's probably one of his favorites."

Troi turned around and smiled. "I thought it might be."

Crusher took a hesitant step toward the door, stopped and waited. "If he gets fussy, he may still be hungry. I programmed the formula for his bottle as Aunt Adele's-"

"I know. Aunt Adele's warm milk," Troi supplied.

"Recipe Two," Crusher amended. "I added some nutrients."

Troi nodded. "Recipe Two. Now go." She followed the doctor over to the door. "We'll be fine, Beverly. I promise. Won't we, Jean-Luc?" She glanced at the baby propped on her hip.

As he had done earlier with Crusher, he laid one small hand against the counselor's cheek. "Mah...mah," he murmured.

Crusher's eyes widened, and Troi smiled faintly at her friend's surprise. "See there... babbling," she said with confidence.

"I... I suppose so," Crusher agreed hesitantly.

Troi suppressed a laugh. "Beverly, you were worried when you thought he was calling you Mama, and now you're disappointed when he doesn't."

She sighed. "All right, Deanna. No good-natured teasing, please. I was just getting used to it. That's all."

Troi smiled again. "I know."

Just then, the door chime sounded, and Crusher reached over and touched the panel on the wall; the door slid open. Guinan and Ro stood in the corridor, looking up at the women.

"Hello," Guinan said, a broad smile creasing her young face, "can Jean-Luc play?"

~vVv~

They went to a park on the holodeck, one that Troi had known as a child herself on Betazed. The green lushness spread out around them, the sound of birds in the surrounding trees, the ripple of a stream in the distance. Troi had laid a blanket on the ground, and she sat on a comer of it next to a picnic basket. Jean-Luc crawled beside her, tentatively reaching the edge of the blanket, stopping, staring inquisitively at the green lawn.

"That's grass, Jean-Luc," she told him.

At the sound of her voice, he looked up at her.

"Grass," she repeated, leaning over and placing his hand on the soft blades.

He laughed as they tickled his palm, pulling at them with his fingers.

Not far from Troi and Jean-Luc, Guinan and Ro were swinging on a swing set. Actually, only Guinan was really swinging; Ro was just sitting there, moving slightly back and forth, tracing the toe of her boot in the dust of the hollow under the swing. Troi sensed that the ensign felt it much too frivolous to go flying up in the air.

Guinan, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Troi wasn't able to read her emotions, but she didn't have to. Her expression, the way she turned her face to the wind and sun, the youthful rumble of laughter, told the counselor that Guinan was thoroughly enjoying her second childhood. Troi wished Ro could find some peace with her predicament, as well.

With a shriek of excitement, Guinan jumped from the swing in mid-flight, landing solidly on the ground. Tired and out of breath, she crossed over to the blanket and collapsed onto her stomach next to Troi and Jean-Luc. She propped her chin in her hands, and raised her feet in the air, crossing them at the ankles.

"You looked like you were having fun," Troi said with a smile.

Guinan smiled back. "I don't often get to play as much as I used to." She cast her gaze in Ro's direction. "But, at least I haven't forgotten how."

Troi nodded. "I'm worried about her. I feel like you have the ability to handle this. And Keiko has Miles. And, well..." She patted Jean-Luc on the back. "I don't think he's really aware of what's going on right now. But, Ro..."

Guinan sighed. "She's... dealing with it. I've tried talking with her, but, you know, I'm really a better listener. And she's not doing much talking lately."

Troi read the message in Guinan's voice. "Would you mind watching Jean-Luc for a little while?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Troi pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the swing set. The swing that Guinan had vacated moments earlier was still swaying gently. The counselor reached out and took hold of the chains that it was suspended from, stopping its movement.

"Mind if I take this swing?" she asked, her question directed to the top of Ro's bent head.

The young ensign shrugged her shoulders, but didn't look up. "Fine by me," she replied with a sigh.

Troi sat down in the swing, her own feet beginning to trail patterns in the dust. She looked sideways at Ro. "Did you swing when you were little?"

"I grew up in a refugee camp. We didn't have swings."

Troi nodded. "I see." She drew in a deep breath. "But surely you played?"

"We worked."

"All the time?"

"All the time."

Troi sighed. "Ro..."

"Well... maybe not all the time." She raised her head and glanced over at the counselor. "But we really didn't have swings."

"You've never told me much about your childhood."

"Some things are best forgotten."

Troi silently stared at her for several moments. "You don't really feel that way," she said.

Ro's eyebrows arched. She didn't like being psychoanalyzed. Especially by a Betazoid.

Troi sensed her mixture of anger and discomfort. "I'm sorry," she apologized. She looked away from the ensign, focused her gaze on the picnic blanket where Guinan was happily playing with Jean-Luc. "I want to help."

"The only thing that will help is to be myself again."

Troi shook her head in agreement. "Probably. But what if you're not able to be yourself again?"

Ro groaned slightly. "For someone who wants to help, you're being awfully negative."

"Just realistic." Troi was still gazing at Guinan and Jean-Luc. "If they can't figure out what went wrong with the captain's RVN sequencing, then we can't even try the transporter idea again. Which means that he'll stay the way he is, and you, Guinan, and Keiko will, too."

"Yeah," Ro scowled, "you're just a laugh a minute."

Troi smiled at the ensign's sarcasm. "I think they'll figure it all out though." She looked back at Ro. "Is that positive enough?"

Ro permitted a slight smile. "Better." She sighed exhaustively. "I don't know how to be a kid," she admitted.

"No one said you had to be," Troi reminded her.

"But I am one."

"Only in appearance."

Ro looked toward the picnic blanket. "Guinan knows how to be a child."

"Guinan knows how to be almost any age," Troi remarked. "She's the only person I've ever known who is truly ageless."

"I wish... I wish I could handle this as well as she does," Ro said softly.

"I think most of us wish we could handle things as well as Guinan. I know I do. I envy her calmness."

Ro's eyes widened and she stared at Troi. "But you're always calm," she exclaimed.

Troi shook her head and laughed. "It just seems that way. I'm always having to work at it. As a child I had to learn to be calm. All Betazoid children do. We had to be calm in order to sense other people's feelings."

"I guess I did just the opposite. In the camp, you didn't want to be reminded of other people's feelings. You were always having to look out for yourself. You didn't... want to let anyone get too close."

"I know. Just remember, you're not there anymore." Troi stood and gazed down at Ro's up turned face. "How about a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich and some chocolate milk?"

Ro grinned slightly. "Sure. How can a kid resist an offer like that."

~vVv~

'There's my boy." Crusher smiled as Troi walked into Sickbay carrying Jean-Luc in her arms. The doctor reached over and took the baby from her, held him against her shoulder, and brushed her cheek against his. "Were you good for Deanna?" she murmured.

The baby gurgled and stuck his thumb in his mouth, his head falling to rest tiredly on her shoulder.

"He was very good," Troi answered for him. "I thought we'd come by and check on any progress before I take him back for his nap."

"Well," Crusher sighed, "there has been some." She crossed over to a wall monitor and activated it. The enlarged model of Picard's DNA appeared. "Geordi, Data, and Miles think that this area of the RVN sequencing strands were adversely affected by the transporter." She put her finger against the monitor. "As you can see, in comparison with the DNA strands themselves, it's a very small area."

"What do they suggest we do?" Troi asked.

"Well, we want to be able to reverse the transporter effects on the RVN sequences, and, at the same time, protect the sequences from any further deterioration."

"But that's what you wanted to do originally."

"That's right. But Miles thinks that since Jean-Luc's RVN sequencing reacted oppositely to the desired effect, that we should attempt the reverse of what we did the first time."

Troi nodded. "And Geordi and Data?"

"They agree." Crusher sighed and absently patted the baby on the back. He'd fallen asleep on her shoulder, his little thumb still in his mouth. "It sounds good in theory, but..." She rested her cheek against the soft top of Jean-Luc's head. "If it doesn't work..."

"Then Jean-Luc won't exist," Troi finished her sentence.

"No," Crusher agreed, tightening her hold on the baby. "I want him back, Deanna. We all do. But if I had to choose between having him like this, or not having him at all..."

Troi was silent for long moments. "What would he choose?" she finally asked, her eyes staring into Crusher's.

"He'd listen to Geordi, Data, and Miles, and then he'd think about it, and then..." Crusher smiled faintly, "then he'd say, 'make it so.'"

~vVv~


	4. Chapter 4

There were six of them gathered around the dining table in the doctor's quarters: Riker, LaForge, Data, O'Brien, Troi, and Crusher. Jean-Luc was sleeping peacefully in the next room, heedless of the fact that he was the very center of conversation.

"We all know what the captain would want," Riker said, looking around at the serious faces that surrounded him. "But I want us to make this decision as a team. I don't want any one of us to feel that he or she individually holds the captain's fate in their own hands." His eyes settled on Data. "Let's hear the facts again."

Data launched into a detailed appraisal of the situation, pausing periodically to allow LaForge and O'Brien to add to the analysis. They all listened carefully, each one weighing the alternatives in their heads. And despite the frightening possibility that their theory could prove inaccurate, they all came to the same decision.

"We'll need a little more time to make the required adjustments to the transporter," O'Brien said, sharing a glance with LaForge and Data.

"That'll be fine," Crusher agreed, sharing her own glance with Troi. "We'll need some time to make some adjustments of our own."

Riker released a long breath. "Then it's decided. First thing in the morning."

~vVv~

He scooted around the blanket in the middle of the sitting area, chewing first on the ear of his teddy bear, and then finding his pacifier and pushing it into his mouth. He rolled over on his back and stared up at the two women. Troi and Crusher sat on the sofa, watching him.

"I'm going to miss him, Deanna," Crusher admitted.

"I am, too. Despite all our concerns, it's been nice having him like this. So easy to... comfort him when he's upset, hold him, enjoy his open curiosity about life."

"All the things that are so difficult to do when he's an adult," the doctor sighed.

"Babies are... easy to love," Troi said, shifting her gaze away from Jean-Luc, focusing on Crusher.

Crusher blushed slightly and stared down at the top of her knees. "Deanna..."

Troi placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Don't run from it, Beverly. You know how you feel about him. It's been easier to love him these past few days."

She shrugged. "He's a child."

"Hopefully, he won't be after tomorrow morning."

Crusher's back stiffened, and she looked up. "And then he'll be... the captain."

"Yes," Troi nodded, "he will be. And he might need someone to... remind him of what it felt like not to be." She smiled. "He'll probably remember what it felt like being twelve. Most of us do. Even though we sometimes try to forget." She looked down at the baby on the blanket. "But he won't remember this. He won't remember being held and taken care of. But maybe... maybe he'll be able to remember the feelings. The safety, the security of having someone who loves him hold him close." She leaned over and gathered Jean-Luc in her arms, and then handed him to Crusher. "Hold him, Beverly. Just hold him."

And she did. For a long time.

~vVv~

Crusher knelt on the transporter pad and unwrapped the blanket from around the baby. She laid him on top of the blue sickbay pajamas, and then carefully pushed his arms and legs into the appropriate places. Both she and O'Brien agreed that the pajamas would be easier than his uniform. If the baby moved even a little bit before the transporter effect took hold, then Picard would materialize half-dressed. Not a situation in which their captain would like finding himself. But Crusher would be relieved to have him materialize in any state of dress... or undress. She just wanted him back. As much as she would miss this small version, she missed the real Jean-Luc Picard even more.

"Doctor?" O'Brien's voice signaled her from the transporter console.

"I think he's ready," she replied, leaning over and placing a kiss on his forehead. Then she quickly stood up and moved off the platform, feeling Troi take hold of her arm just as a thin wail emanated from the blue fabric.

"Energize," Riker's voice ordered from behind her.

And in a twinkling of distorted light, the blue bundle of clothing and the baby's faint cry disappeared. The transporter effect shimmered and folded and became a column of light that solidified into Jean-Luc Picard. He stood before them, blinking in confusion. He was dressed in the pajamas, but just barely. One arm was in a sleeve, but the other stuck out the top, pulling the shirt uncomfortably tight around his neck. The pants hung loosely about his hips, and the first thing he did, when he'd regained some presence of mind, was to reach down with one hand and pull them up around his waist.

Crusher felt Troi's hand squeeze her arm before letting go, and then the doctor stepped onto the pad, her tricorder running over the captain's body.

"Beverly, what is going on?" Picard hissed through clenched teeth.

"It's a long story, Jean-Luc." She put the tricorder in the pocket of her jacket, and then tried to help Picard adjust his pajama top.

He pushed her hands away. "I can manage." He stared at the material in his hand. "This isn't what I was wearing."

"Like I said... It's a long story."

"Captain," Riker stepped forward, "it's good to have you back."

Picard smiled warily at his first officer. "It's good to be back. I think." He hesitantly ran a hand over the top of his head, his smile broadening at the smoothness he felt there. "I take it I... look the way I'm supposed to look."

"You look just fine, Captain," Troi answered him.

"Now, I suggest we take you to Sickbay and make sure you're actually as fine as you look," Crusher insisted, wrapping a hand around Picard's upper arm.

Surprisingly, he didn't resist her support and allowed her to lead him to Sickbay.

~vVv~

A full physical examination confirmed that the captain was indeed as fine as he looked. His ribo-veroxic nucleic sequences were complete, and they exactly matched the previous sample.

He sighed with relief as he slipped into his uniform top and allowed Crusher to zip it up his back.

She patted him on the shoulder. "Everything checks out all right. You're just as old as you were three days ago."

Picard winced slightly. "Then how come I feel older?"

Crusher smiled. "Because you're tired."

"What about the others?"

"We'll run their sequences back through the transporter buffer this afternoon. Right now, I'd like for you to get some rest."

"In my own quarters?" he asked hopefully.

'Yes. But I insist on tucking you in."

He glared at her. "I am no longer twelve years old, Doctor. I do not require any assistance."

"No," Crusher agreed, "but I think I'll come along anyway."

~vVv~

She waited on the edge of his bed while he changed into a pair of pajamas. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom and walked over to her.

"They actually fit," he smiled tiredly, indicating his clothing.

"That's good." She stood up and drew down the covers.

"You don't really have to tuck me in," he sighed, but slid under the covers anyway, allowing her to pull them back over him.

She sat beside him. "Do you need anything before I go?"

He thought for a moment, and then grinned. "I have the strongest craving for some of my Aunt Adele's warm milk."

"I thought you might," Crusher responded, leaning over and picking up a cup from the bedside table. She handed it to him.

He smiled and took a sip. "How did you know?"

"I just did."

He took another long sip and then handed the cup back to her. He slid lower in the bed and rolled over onto his side. "Wasn't there a long story that I needed to hear?"

"I think that can wait until later," she said softly.

He nodded, and then yawned. "I think you're right."

"I know I am. Now get some sleep." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and then gently patted his back until his eyes closed and he slept.

Like a baby.

~The End~


End file.
